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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25138414">Les Petites Pâtisseries</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Diminua/pseuds/Diminua'>Diminua</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman &amp; Terry Pratchett</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>M/M, little bit of bondage, lots of sugar and cream</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 11:15:35</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,846</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25138414</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Diminua/pseuds/Diminua</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Aziraphale eats cream and pastry off a naked Crowley. Pretty much that.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Good Omens Kink Meme</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Les Petites Pâtisseries</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Crowley could get free if he wanted. The ropes are there largely to keep him from squirming, even inadvertently, while Aziraphale dots small creamy pastries in a curving line down Crowley’s chest and follows them with a drizzle of warm chocolate sauce.</p><p>Even so they dance slightly as the demon tries to raise his head to see where the saucepan is going, watching Aziraphale trickle it over his fingers to make sure it’s not too hot before it streams and puddles on Crowley’s skin, sticky on the surface but still molten underneath from his body heat. Aziraphale places gleaming fresh washed fruit – slices of apple, halved strawberries, whole raspberries - neatly and precisely (and quickly, because the chocolate is still trying to set) in a long lazy coil round his belly button.</p><p>Despite Aziraphale’s haste he has a dreamy, happy expression on his face as he does so, runs a finger over Crowley’s ribs where the chocolate is escaping and running down to the table, and sucks it off with a sigh of pleasure.</p><p>Powdered sugar follows the fruit, lovely little drifts that he takes lower to dust Crowley’s thighs and half-hard cock in sweetness, his eyes going lascivious and greedy as he smiles up the length of his lover’s body so Crowley can see how much he likes dredging up a positive snow storm over his thighs.</p><p>He keeps eye contact as he leans in to lick just one impatient stripe there, and Crowley groans at the warm wet sensation of the angel’s tongue against his skin, head dropping back to the cushion beneath his head. This is going to be torture in the most wonderful way.</p><p>Once the platter is laid out to his satisfaction Aziraphale steps back, eyes lingering thoughtfully from pastry to pastry, considering which to begin with.</p><p>Maybe the cream horn, or a custard tart? Maybe a dark chocolate profiterole or a green tea one. But it’s the mille-feuille he finally determines on. Lifting it to his lips and biting through that delicate pastry with great satisfaction, letting it fall apart, tiny flakes breaking free and drifting lightly back onto Crowley's belly.</p><p>Nor does he hurry himself over picking the next. Crowley watches, eyes wide, as Aziraphale ponders. Fingers hovering and finally closing on a tiny fruit tart which he punctuates with a fingerful of chocolate and powdered sugar between the two bites, purely to contrast and bring out the acidity. Aziraphale's eyes close in gastronomic ecstasy, and Crowley can feel his cock twitch in response to the way the angel licks his fingers after.</p><p>Next the cream horn, nibbling at the sugared pastry with small, happy sounds, lapping at the cream like a big white Persian cat, eyes almost dreamy with contentment.</p><p>‘Oh Crowley, you must try this.’ And now Crowley is licking cream from Aziraphale’s index finger too, tongue trying to get through it to the taste of the angel underneath. Aziraphale even lets him suck for a few seconds, skin growing hot and tight with lust, mouth watering, before he pulls his finger free and finishes the rest of the cake.</p><p>The custard tart is drier, and Aziraphale eats it with a cup of black tea in his other hand, taking small neat sips to wash it down. It wouldn’t be erotic if it were anyone else, but Crowley is hardwired to respond to Aziraphale eating food, Aziraphale enjoying himself. The very curve of his fingers around the cup handle is turning him on. <i>Satan</i> how he wants to be touched.</p><p>Aziraphale knows, of course he does. Knows and approves. Fans the flames by poking out his pink pretty tongue to clean each fingertip in turn, and then, worse still, sets down his cup to eat a green tea profiterole straight off Crowley’s body. Just leans in and engulfs it in his mouth, lips kissing against Crowley’s skin, hand resting casually against Crowley’s thigh. Thumb stroking gently as he chews and swallows.</p><p>It leaves his palm covered in icing sugar, and Aziraphale sucks and licks every single inch clean while Crowley watches, aching to be the one who does that for him but not willing to deprive the angel of a single taste.</p><p>Afterwards he rubs his wet thumb round and over Crowley’s nipple, teasing, playful, and Crowley is sure he’s going out of his mind, clutching at the ropes that are there to stop him writhing with pleasure, pressing his body up into Aziraphale’s light, maddening touches.</p><p>‘Ssh.’ Aziraphale soothes, running his index finger through the ribbon of chocolate Crowley’s hot, flushed skin is re-melting, tracing it’s curving, ticklish line up Crowley's belly, his chest, before sucking his finger clean.</p><p>He traces the line down again as he moves on to the fruit, delicate as a bird plucking berries from a bush, moaning softly, contentedly, at the bright, sweet sharpness of the soft fruits, the cool tart apple draped in chocolate and dusted with sugar. He has rested a hand casually on Crowley’s thigh again, so close to where the demon wants to be touched.</p><p>Except he doesn’t want it yet. He mustn't. He has to calm down and remember that there is still a profiterole left, and a petit four with coffee and mascarpone, and all this sugar and smudged chocolate.</p><p>He has to be patient, and let the angel finish eating.</p><p>The petit four tries to fall to pieces as Aziraphale picks it up. The coffee saturated pastry has been sitting too long on Crowley’s skin and doesn’t want to come away. The angel finds that perfectly relatable, chuckling as it disintegrates in his fingers and one half drops back to land, gooey and sorry for itself, on Crowley’s ribcage.</p><p>‘Clearly I shall have to lick it off.’ He says, resolving to take his time, take in the taste of Crowley’s skin with the mascarpone, draw out his pleasure. The sweet creamy cheese – just a hint of lemon sourness to cut through the heaviness that lingers on his tongue – lends itself to being licked, like ice-cream, and like ice cream tries to slide away.</p><p>Crowley stares. He has never seen Aziraphale eat like this, messy as he finally gives up, laughing, using his fingers to scoop it into his mouth; making the most glorious, gluttonous mess and giving Crowley a ringside view.</p><p>He dabs his lips with a tissue after, sipping his tea again, cleansing his palate for the final pastry – the dark chocolate profiterole, the favourite saved until last, the perfect balance of choux and cocoa and fat-rich cream, melting in his mouth.</p><p>He swallows and sighs contentedly, belly fed. Turns his eyes to his beloved demon. </p><p>He smiles.</p><p>Normally Aziraphale wouldn’t dream of licking a plate clean, but these are exceptional circumstances, and Crowley is still spread, aroused, bound. Stirring under Aziraphale’s gaze, under the touch of his lips and fingers.</p><p>Chocolate smears further under his tongue, sweet and salt, and Aziraphale trails his hand down Crowley’s side as he does it, making him twitch with suppressed giggles, ticklish and resisting laughter.</p><p>Then Aziraphale’s tongue, lips, teeth, close on a nipple, sucking, pulling, and Crowley is moaning, biting his lips to stifle that sound too, arching into the sensation as Aziraphale’s lips come free, tongue laving the sensitised flesh even after every drop of chocolate has been cleaned off of it.</p><p>He draws back to catch and hold Crowley’s eyes as he sneaks his fingers over the curve of Crowley’s thigh, gathering sugar, and brings them to his lips to suck them clean, two at a time, cheeks hollowing as he slides them slowly out. Crowley is absolutely still, eyes wide and gone completely snake, and Aziraphale smirks and breaks eye contact to turn to licking the powdered sugar direct from Crowley’s hip, his thigh, in parallel stripes that leave Crowley’s skin wet.</p><p>Crowley’s cock is there in Aziraphale’s peripheral vision, but he’s not ready to move to it yet, nibbles instead against Crowley’s belly, then walks round him to lick sugar from the other side before kissing him, all tongue and hungry, open mouth, with Crowley opening up beneath him, sucking on the taste of sugar and Angel and lust.</p><p>Now he’s ready, capturing Crowley’s cock with one hand, and pulling it just a little way upright, the better to nuzzle his lips just at the very head of it. Then a touch of tongue, delicate licks that are pleasant to taste but which he knows are not enough, feeling it twitch under his fingers, Crowley’s hips lifting a little way off the table as he tries to get more sensation. Aziraphale’s free hand finds his hip and presses him down again, waiting until Crowley accepts it, lies still, before he bends and shifts his grip and engulfs the head of Crowley’s cock fully in his mouth, tongue exploring all round it, sucking in the sugar and the musk of Crowley himself, eyes closing as he considers the contrast of flavours and textures, ignoring but enjoying the sound Crowley makes as he sucks and withdraws, coming free with a faint pop as his lips kiss back together.</p><p>They’re both panting, but Aziraphale is better at hiding it. The very definition of calm as he bends and sucks and releases Crowley's cock again, returns to small, wet licks across the sensitive slit at the top, well aware than Crowley is going out of his mind. Would be saying so if Aziraphale didn’t appear to be enjoying it so much.</p><p>He sucks again, sliding deeper down this time, and comes away licking icing sugar from his lips as well as the fingers he had wrapped around to keep Crowley’s cock in place, pacing around Crowley again to return to his cooling cup of tea. It is probably bastardly behaviour to linger and savour the last few mouthfuls, and Crowley’s groan of frustration is entirely understandable, but Aziraphale wants to taste Crowley again as if from new.</p><p>This time there is no sugar, it’s all Crowley as Aziraphale takes him in his mouth and sucks and slips down, bracing against the table as he leans lower. He doesn’t linger like before, can feel Crowley trembling with the effort of keeping still, his ability to mimic a passive piece of fine china rapidly unravelling. Aziraphale bobs his head instead, sucking on each drag up, finding the angle a little more difficult than from underneath but managing with the help of a hand slipping down to cup Crowley’s balls, to massage with his thumb, squeeze gently as he sucks.</p><p>Crowley groans from deep in his chest as he comes, swearing quietly as his cock jumps and spits out more against Aziraphale’s lips, and the angel swipes his tongue through it.</p><p>There is a dusting of sugar on his hand from where he was fondling Crowley’s balls, and he licks that fastidiously clean too as he steps back to admire the sight of Crowley. Utterly spent, and really quite incredibly sticky.</p><p>And now, he thinks, it’s time to wash up. Lots of bubble bath, and a lovely soapy snake.</p>
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